


Cut

by swtalmnd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Idiocy Regarding Blood Loss, M/M, Melancholy, Pre-Slash, Writin' Dirty 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: Dean never gets used to the slide of a knife through his skin, he thinks grumpily.





	Cut

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I don't get enough sleep and have a morbid prompt. I mean, it could have been horror instead of light angst, so there is that.

Every time Dean cut himself, he thought he should have been used to it by now. To the bright sting of pain, the hot slide of his own blood for a spell or as proof his of humanity. He'd schooled his face a long time ago but it still hurt every single time, bright and freshly painful.

Castiel's fingers smoothing the pain away afterward, he never got used to that, either. Especially since Cas hadn't always remembered, or been able to heal him.

"You shouldn't waste your grace on me," said Dean, running his fingers over the smooth skin of his arm. He always healed cleanly, probably some genetic vessel bullshit he didn't want to think about, but whenever Cas was done with him there was nothing but freckles left.

Cas gave him a look that was almost a smile; the angel was becoming human again, which meant more warmth but less magic to sling around. "Habit, I suppose."

"Thanks," said Dean, fiddling with his sleeves instead of saying that if he's a habit, he's a bad one. "Is that all you need me for?"

Castiel's face smoothed out and his eyes went distant. "I will need a second pair of hands, but I can ask Sam."

"Don't be an assbutt," said Dean. "Didn't wanna be in the way, is all." He slipped off his flannel and pushed up the sleeves of his henley, gesturing to the pile of spell ingredients in the middle of the room. "Just tell me what to do."

Cas actually smirked. "You are rarely so acquiescent with angels, I feel honored."

"Well," said Dean, a return smirk on his face like flirting, unable to help himself. "We do share a profound bond."

Cas chuckled and settled in, giving Dean directions and working smoothly alongside him. He even shed his jackets, working with rolled-up sleeves and loosened tie, and once again Dean has a moment to wonder why his vessel is so unfairly fit. Dean's bisexuality barely registered on the scale most days, especially around other hunters and their casual bigotry, but Cas pushed every one of his latent buttons sometimes. Competence, courage, and undeniable hotness being the most important, not to mention his often brutal honesty.

When the spell was ready, they ended up side by side, shoulders brushing. Castiel handed Dean a page and lit the brazier, their voices rising in near unison, Dean's low but still higher than Cas's gravelly tones. Warmth tinged with ozone-cold grace spread through Dean from their point of contact, and he hoped his henley was long enough to cover his body's reaction.

Once this spell was done, Dean was going to have a very long, very hot shower, followed by a very cold dousing to rinse away the last of his impure thoughts. Castiel might be becoming human, but he wasn't Dean's to covet, not really. Dean had learned his lesson about wanting forever with Lisa, and this time he'd take that wanting to his grave.


End file.
